


Bear Witness

by ladyjax



Category: Glee
Genre: Explicit Language, Female Character of Color, Gen, Homophobic Language, Racism, Racist Language, Repressed Memories, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyjax/pseuds/ladyjax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for the Glee Angst Meme on LiveJournal.  Prompt: Kurt and Mercedes are out one night by themselves (preferably doing something that would be seen as romantic, like dinner or a movie) when they're attacked by a group of thugs. Both of them are severely injured and can't provide details about the attack for whatever reason. Maybe they're too drugged up on painkillers, maybe one or both is comatose, maybe it's post-traumatic amnesia, whatever. But they can't help the investigators figure out who did it.</p><p>Everyone, the media, their friends, their families, assume it was a gay bashing and that Mercedes just got caught in the crossfire.</p><p>The truth? It was a gang of racists who thought Kurt was Mercedes' boyfriend. They wanted to... express their opinions on interracial dating.</p><p>No character death please, and I'd prefer it to end with the attackers getting caught but that's up to the writer.</p><p> </p><p>WARNINGS FOR THE FOLLOWING: racially based violence, racial and gay slurs, repressed memories</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this back in 2010 and posted the first two parts on the Glee Angst Meme anonymously. I finished it but never posted the rest until the end of 2011 (literally on New Year's Eve).
> 
> As much as Glee tackles gay issues, it sort of does a hand-wavy thing around race. Considering Mercedes is in a majority white school, it makes sense that her parents would talk to her and her siblings (if she has them since we know next to nothing about her family) about being aware and staying safe. The talk I refer to later within the story is one that I had with my parents when I was young.
> 
> Original link to story on Glee Angst Meme: http://glee-angst-meme.livejournal.com/3065.html?thread=4791289#t4791289
> 
> Edited for clarity for AO3.

**I.**

 _It was a lovely night to be out.  The late summer evening carried a hint of fall so she opted to wear a shawl around her shoulders.  He wore  that nice double breasted suit that he’d found while scrounging in vintage clothing stores.  They’d planned carefully, saving their money over the summer so they could make reservations at the nicest restaurant in the next town over._

 _“Why not?”  when she’d expressed skepticism.  “We’re friends and friends can dress up and go to dinner.”_

 _He was right, of course.  They dressed up, he drove and they had a wonderful evening with an entertaining waiter who more than earned the tip they left.  Walking back to the car, her arm looped through his, her purse dangling from her fingers.  They were talking about school, about what they wanted to happen in glee club - more solos for both of the being at the top of the list._

 _So she could be forgiven is she hadn’t paid that much attention when she felt an itching between her shoulder blades.  She maybe walked a touch faster, prompting him to match her pace but there wasn’t anything really wrong that she could see._

 _It was a wonderful night.  She was with her best friend._

 _And when a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed her by the hair, she barely had time to..._

There was light, bright bright light and there was shouting.  Someone was screaming, a long keening wail that pierced her ear drums.  Make it stop make it stop make it

“Mercedes!”

Two hands grabbed her shoulders and then it was her mother, Patrice, in front of her, her lips working but there didn’t seem to be any sound coming out because of all of that damn screaming.

“Baby girl, shhh, stop, you’re safe, you’re safe.”  Her mother’s hands cupped her face, the warmth seeming to seep through her skin.  

Mercedes took a halting breath and the screaming stopped.  That’s when she felt her raw throat, the stress and strain on her vocal chords and a tiny part of her mind chided her for being careless with her voice.  “Mom?”

Fat tears rolled down Patrice Jones’ face as she carefully maneuvered her arms around Mercedes’ shoulders.  “S’okay now, baby.  You’re safe.”

“Safe?”  Why should it matter if she was safe?  Out of the corner of her eye, Mercedes spied her hand.  Complex tubing ran from a point on the back of her right hand.  She followed the path of the tubes from her hand all the way to the IV that hung next to her bed. A commotion at the door caught her attention and as her mother drew away, Mercedes saw several doctors and nurses pile into the room.  

“Ma’am, we need you to take a step back so we can check on your daughter,” one of the nurses said gently. Mercedes watched as her mother was carefully moved out of the way.

“Mom? Mom, don’t go.  Don’t...get away from me!” Mercedes snatched her arm away from the doctor who intended to check her pulse.  “Mom, what’s happening?”  Pure panic rolled through her gut as things started to fit together about her situation.

“Miss Jones, I’m Dr. Gupta.  You’re in the Ohio State University Medical Center ICU, ” the doctor answered.  “You were brought here because you had an extensive head injury that needed more specialized care.”

“Head injury?  What’s he talking about?”  Mercedes was agitated.  Reaching up, she felt soft gauze beneath her fingers.  Then, “Where’s Kurt?  Where is he?”

“Back home, sweetie.  He was released from Lima General a few days ago ” Patrice answered. She’d wrapped her arm around middle as though she was trying to hold herself together.  

Something was terribly wrong and there was a hole in her head.  “Something happened to us,” she said.  “What happened?”

Dr. Gupta made a calming motion with his hand.  “Miss Jones, there will be time to tell you about this later. You need to rest...”

“What happened?”  Mercedes roared or at least that’s how it sounded in her head. It had the desired effect.  Her mother stepped forward and took her hand.  

“The two of you were attacked, Mercedes.  The police are calling it a hate crime.”

Right at that moment, throwing up was the only logical response Mercedes had left.

 **II.**  
The doctors shaved her head.

Mercedes stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers lightly brushing the incision  that made slight bump beneath the new hair growing in.  The doctors had been concerned enough about the possibility of brain damage that they took film after film, waiting for some of the swelling to go down so they could get a better look. Dr. Gupta’s team had found a small blood clot that they were able to excise with minimal surgery.

But they still took her hair.

She smoothed nervous hands over her thighs then put her favorite plaid Kangol on her head.  The wool itched and Mercedes twitched it from side to side, trying to find the perfect angle.  If she cocked it just so, it would make her face look a little less haunted.

 _Little bitch thinks she’s cute_

Mercedes hadn't told anyone about the voices. Sometimes one, sometimes more. All of it one big ball of ugly hate that seemed to have take residence inside her head.  A spike of fear in her heart each and every time it showed up.  She hadn’t told her parents; they were hovering enough as it was.  

A knock on her door and she looked up to see Kurt peeking in.  “Hey.  Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Mercedes gifted him with a brief smile.  “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

The bruising on Kurt’s face was pretty much healed although from the way he moved, Mercedes could tell that his side was hurting him.  Their assailants (and what a nice clinical word that was) had paid particular attention to his ribs, cracking one and leaving extensive contusions on his chest.  He sat down carefully on the edge of her bed, and watched as she switched out one cap for another.  

“You don’t have to go today, you know.  If you’re not feeling up to it.”

Kurt’s voice floated quietly in her room.  In the mirror, Mercedes looked over her shoulder at her friend.  He’d been the only person she’d wanted to see while she rehabilitated.  Even though it probably hurt the other members of the glee club not to come and visit, Kurt understood why she didn’t want to be inundated with visitors.

It was enough to deal with the fact that they’d been attacked.  Mercedes hadn’t been in a space to deal with the pitying glances and the questions that neither she nor Kurt could answer.

  **~*~**

 _“All right now, Mercedes.  I want you to try to remember what happened that night.  It’ll come, don’t force it.”_

 _Detective Joe Alember had fifteen years on the squad and it showed.  He was gentle, trying to draw out any sort of response from both teens. They’d begged to be interviewed together at one point when the single interviews failed to produce any positive results.  That went on for several more hours until finally they had to stop._

 _“...both too traumatized”  “Not entirely sure if we’d even get an accurate statement.”  The snatches of conversation between the detective and their parents drifted over the bustle of the police station.  Kurt’s fingers were laced with hers, a lifeline in the chaos.  “I don’t remember,” she’d said fretfully.  “It’s like there’s this hole in my head where that night should be.”  He’d put his arm around her shoulders then, pulling her close._

 _“I’m afraid too, boo.”_

 

  **~*~**

“I have to go back sometime,” Mercedes said.  “If I stay at home, I’ll think about it.  If I’m at school, same thing.”  She swallowed down the kernel of panic in her gut.  “How’s it been for you?”

“Hard,” Kurt replied shortly.  “Hard without you there and everyone tiptoeing around like someone died.”

We did die, Mercedes thought.  Or a part of us did.  She kept that to herself.  “I told myself I’d try today.  If I can do that, then maybe I can go tomorrow.”  Maybe I can hold it together long enough to get through.  Turning back to the mirror, she put on hoop earrings then stood up.  “How do I look?”

Kurt stood up as well and took her hands, squeezing them as though he was convincing himself she was there.  “Fierce as always.  If you’re ready, we should get going.”


	2. Chapter 2

**III.**

Mercedes kept a hold of Kurt’s arm as they came into McKinley. Her eyes stared straight ahead as one foot went in front of the other. She could feel them: the eyes of the other students on her and Kurt but mostly on her.

  
“Keep your head up,” Kurt whispered as he got her to her first class, trigonometry. Mercedes gifted him with a smile and slipped into the classroom. I can do this, she thought, slinging her bag down from her shoulder so she could hang it from the back of her chair. The school had sent home her assignments so she wasn’t that far behind. For the next few hours, she moved as though in a daze from class to class.

Teachers would start to say something but then their mouths would snap shut and their eyes would slide away. Other kids moved around her as she walked through the halls to her locker. Periodically, she’d see Kurt and he’d nod and flash her a smile and her heart would lift but it was still hard to be here.

The only person who could look her straight in the eye was Coach Sylvester. Mercedes’ had been walking by her office when the older woman shouted, “Jones, my office.”

Mercedes swallowed, and tugged her Kangol down so that it would not slide off. She took a deep breath and walked into Sue’s office.

The acerbic cheer leading coach waved to the seat in front of her desk. “Sit.”

Mercedes sat and said, “You wanted to see me, Coach?” Sue’s lips twitched and her eyes took in Mercedes appearance, from head to toe.

“The hat. “ Sue pointed at it. “Take it off.”

“But, I can’t,” Mercedes began with a panic. She started to rise from her seat but Sue snapped, “I didn’t tell you you could go.”

The younger woman sank back down in to the seat and ducked her head down. Her hand went up and slipped the cap off her head and crumpled it in her lap. Tears pricked her eyes and not for the first time Mercedes wondered what happened in Sue’s life to make her so damned cruel.

“Look at me, Mercedes.”

She shook her head and one fat tear hit the back of her hand. There was the scrape of Sue’s chair and then footsteps moved around to the front of the desk. Two long fingers slipped beneath Mercedes’ chin and lifted it up. Mercedes opened her eyes then and stared right into Sue’s face . What she saw there was something she never expected to see: anger and the shadow of an old remembered pain.

“You don’t let who ever did this to you win, you hear me?”

The words stabbed directly into Mercedes’ heart. “What? I don’t know what you mean.”

  
“What I mean,” Sue said low and hard, “Is you put your shoulders back and you walk like you have a right to be living. You survived, you understand me?''

Mercedes lip trembled and she felt like she wanted to cry but Sue’s words were like an anchor. She swallowed and nodded and Sue nodded back. She got up and walked around to the other side of her desk. Sitting down, she pulled out her diary and started writing. “You still here, Jones?”

Mercedes was up and out of her seat, cap firmly back on her head. “I have a class and then glee club.”

Sue snorted, not looking at Mercedes. “Figures you go back to the mouth breathers the minute you came back. Get out of my office.”

She nodded and took off , never looking back to see Sue’s hand trembling on the desk top.

 **IV.**  
Walking into the choir room was probably harder than anything Mercedes had done since she’d come back. All of the sound dropped down when she walked in and everyone stared. Their eyes struggled not to slide away.

  
Kurt was up and out of his seat in moments, his hand out to pull her inside. “How are you doing?” he whispered.

“Okay. I have to tell you about my encounter with Coach Sylvester.” Mercedes whispered back. He nodded and they made their way back to the seats.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re back,” Quinn said, leaning over to take Mercedes hand and squeeze it. “I missed you.”

“Thanks,” Mercedes said. That seemed to break the ice and soon everyone was talking to her. Puck hung back a little, a frown on his otherwise handsome face.

“Got something to say, Puck?”

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. “They haven’t caught the fucks who did this have they?”

Mercedes turned to look at Kurt who also looked a little shell shocked by the vehemence. “No,” she replied, “they haven’t. We…I couldn’t remember much from that night and without that, there’s not much the police can do.”

A short sharp nod and he turned back to the front of the class, arms folded, the muscle in his jaw jumping be3neath the skin. Mercedes almost said something else but that’s when Mr. Schue came into the room. He saw her, a smile lighting his boyish features and he said, “Welcome back. You were definitely missed.”

“Thanks, Mr. Schue,” Mercedes replied. He clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention back to the front. Mercedes sort of listened but another part of her was listening to something else.

 _Are you going to scream, bitch? Nice and loud so people can hear you - I mean that’s what girls like you do, scream and roll your eyes like you’re all that. Don’t hear you with something smart to say. Usually you’re always running your mouth, never wanting to shut the hell up._

A strong shiver passed through Mercedes’ body as she felt all of her muscles tense and she rocked back into her seat as the memory took over.

 _She’s pressed down, someone’s keeping her pinned and her pretty dress is all ruined, the asphalt is hard beneath her hands and they’re scraped from the palms to the tips of her fingers. There’s so many of them and they’re laughing. She can hear the smack of a hand against flesh and a weak ‘no’ falls from her lips._

“Mercedes?”

She feels on hand on her shoulder and she smacks it away with her hand. “No!”

She’s breathing hard, and she’s out of her seat as the memory falls away. She’s in the choir room and everyone is looking at her, including Kurt who’s got a look on his ace that scares her. Then Mercedes is dashing down the steps and out the door, her stomach roiling against the bile.

The nearest bathroom can’t come soon enough and she barely makes it into a stall before her stomach rebels with the remnants of lunch. It’s over quickly but Mercedes can’t bring herself to move off the floor and that’s where Quinn finds her.

“Mercedes? Are you okay?”

“I’m not,” Mercedes replies dully. "I’m not even close to being okay."

~*~

Patrice Jones knows her daughter almost as well as she knows herself so there’s something about Mercedes’ disquiet that strikes her on a soul deep level.  
Mercedes pretends that things are getting better and in many ways they are. Hair is growing back in and the healthy glow that’s as much a part of Mercedes as anything else is finally returning. But there are times when she’ll catch Mercedes staring into space as though she’s listening to something, and when she looks in on her daughter at night she knows that’ she’s not resting easy. Patrice is a mother so she sees things. She also knows that if she pushes too hard or too much, Mercedes will shut down completely.

There are no easy answers forthcoming. Neither Kurt nor Mercedes have enough memories between them to be able to give an adequate description of their assailants, a fact which frustrates the police. People at the church have been praying up a storm. For all that the rest of Lima has assumed that it was an act of homophobia, Black folks as a rule know that that kind of opportunistic violence is not all that opportunistic. History is littered with too many instances of Black boys and girls going missing and winding up dead or hurt. Patrice and her husband Aldus are no fools; they had the talk with their children years ago. Not everyone will want to see you shine so watch your back. Know where you are and who you are with. Be careful with the police. They are simple lessons about survival that they both wish they didn’t have to even have to discuss but they do it anyway.

They get to know Burt Hummel much better. He comes over sometimes with Kurt and they sit in the kitchen and drink coffee with him. Burt knows that it could have been much worse, that the police could have been telling him that his child was dead and he’s grateful that Kurt made it through. But Patrice recognizes the anger, the helplessness to stand in the way of anything that would conspire to hurt your child. She and Aldus make sure to let Burt know that if he needs to talk he can.


	3. Chapter 3

**V.**

"To date have been no arrests made in the case of two McKinley High School teens who were assaulted several weeks ago. Police are still seeking leads but they are not optimistic about their prospects at the moment. It is still hoped that the victims of the assault will be able to assist authorities but unless there’s a major break on that front, it is entirely possible that the case will remain unsolved.”  
 **  
*Click*  
**  
Mercedes shuts off the TV and sits back down on the couch. Kurt’s fingers lace with hers and squeeze. “Can I tell you something?” he asks.

She nods and he looksdown at their fingers. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m remembering stuff.”

Mercedes stills and swallows. “Like what?”

“Fragments mostly. Little things at really odd times. It’s like a movie but kind of messed up.” He looks into her eyes and sees she's distressed.

”Cedes, what is it?”

She struggles to form the words. “I…I hear things.” Mercedes gets to her feet and starts to pace. “Ever since I woke up, I hear people, voices. They’re all jumbled but sometimes they come through loud and clear. And,” When she stops and wraps her arms around herself, Kurt gets to his feet and wraps his arms around her.

“Sweetie, what else?”

“It’s like I’m there. All the time. It never stops. There’s more and more of it coming and I can’t stop it,” Mercedes says ith a small sob as she presses her face into his chest. His arms tighten around her and not for the first time she wonders how anyone could think Kurt weak given how strong he hugged.

“I need it to stop, I need to remember but at the same time I don’t want to.".

“Like you’re afraid of what might be waiting on the other side,” Kurt murmurs. He smiles down weakly at her. “Oh you are preaching to the choir, honey. I have random moments when stuff comes back and I don’t know if I should say it or if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me or something. “

Mercedes settles against him and wraps her arms around his waist. “Do we tell someone? What if they don’t believe us?”

Kurt stares over her head into the distance, “I don’t know, ‘Cedes. I just don’t know.”

~*~

  
School gets a little easier every day. There are still some people who stare and eventually Mercedes leaves her cap off and rocks her short cut. The scar's not as highly visible as it had been so she sucked it up and kept her head held high.

Still, there are times when things didn’t feel entirely right. The random comments and sympathy (”You know, I heard that people said all this gay hating shit,” or “it figures that it happened over there. It wouldn’t happen here in Lima,”). Principal Figgins puts together a diversity day featuring GLBT issues prominently. Mercedes would have preferred to skip it but she and Kurt find  themselves at the highest point in the bleachers, watching it all unfold.

As speaker after speaker go on, Mercedes notices that Kurt's becoming agitated. “Kurt?” she asks as she places a comforting hand on his knee. He stops short of sweeping her hand away in frustration but catching her hand in his own instead.

“This is wrong,” he whispers to her, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong? “

“This,” Kurt replis, sweeping his free hand around the room. “It all feels wrong somehow. It’s not about me, dammit!” He gets up abruptly, grabbing his bag and making made his way down the bleachers and heading for the doors with Mercedes hot on his heels. They make t to the hallway and Kurt bangs the back of his head once against the lockers. “Why can’t I remember all of it?” he snarls.

Mercedes puts her hand between his head and the locker. “You won’t remember anything if you do that.”

“What else?”

“What?”

“What else, Mercedes? You’ve locked this down so you don’t remember it. I know now that’s what I”ve been doing. Odds are you’ve been doing it too.”

Mercedes looks at him, eyes wide. “No.”

“Cedes…”

“No Kurt, don’t ask me anymore. I don’t want it. What ever it is up in my head I just don’t want more of it.” She sweeps around him, leaving him behind her, the voices in her head taunting her as she begins to run.

 _Pretty boy there. Too good for the likes of you but he looks like a fag too. Did you ruin him? Make him into a sniveling little white boy you could control?_

She claps her hands against her ears as the voices grow louder. Breaking through the side doors, Mercedes doesn't stop running until she's found herself beneath the bleachers on the football field. Curling up against one of the supports, she rocks back and forth, muttering, “Make it stop, please, stop.”

 _You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, ruining a good white boy like that. But he’s weak so we’re going to punish him too. You though, we’re going to make it so you won’t want to look another white man’s way ever again. Bring her over here._

 _She struggles against the hands, but there’s too many and they’re too strong. They wrestle her over to one of the parking stops, pressing her face against it. Hands are in her hair and there’s laughter as the tears run down her cheeks._

 _“Oh look at that, little nigger bitch is having herself a cry. Well, she’s gonna have a lot more to cry about.”_

 _“Yeah, Jessie, do it. Show her what’s what.” The voice that says that is young, eager and she recognizes it, she knows him, if she can only see…_

A large hand caught her shoulder and she screamed, pressed her back against the support. “No!”“Hey, hey! Calm down, girl.”

Mercedes is breathing hard as her vision clears and finds herself staring up into the dark face of Azimo Phelps. He rocks back on his heels and says, “You okay?”

She wipes a grimy hand over her cheek. “Yeah,” she replies weakly. “I’m okay.”

“Didn’t seem like it.” He stands and holds out a hand to her. She looks at it and he rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to do anything to you.”

“Considering the amount of slushies you and Karofsky have slung my way.”

“That’s just regular stuff,” he shrugged. “This seems like some shit you’re going through.”

 **VII.**

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering. Was what Kurt said true? Was she suppressing everything that happened?

The implication that it's more than everyone believes is something that's in Mercedes’ brain and she can't shake it loose.

One deep breath. Then another. And another.

She lets her eyes close, lets the voices and memories come closer than ever before; it's like swimming through muck. Things, places, that should be clear were hazy. Except for the voices, Those were clear as a bell in their ugliness and hurt.

A low sob escapes into the room and she presses her fist against her mouth. Stay with it, Mercedes thinks, keep going. She breathes deep again, letting fatigue seep into her bones, pulling her deeper into sleep.

 _And she was there, with Kurt. They had finished dinner and they were walking back to his car, arms entwined. She was laughing at something he said and making plans for the start of school.That’s when she felt it. That itch between her shoulder blades, the one her mother and father told her to never ignore. She moved faster, thinking briefly of kicking off her shoes. Kurt was no fool because his arm muscles tightened and he lengthened his stride to match hers. His car was right ***there.***_

 _So were the men who had somehow flanked them. There were no insignia, nothing that would say where they were from but that bone deep feeling in Mercedes soul told her everything she needed to know. Shifting, pushing Kurt behind her. The faces, the sneers as they circled their prey then pulled them into the shadows._

 _Hands, nothing but hands, on her body, on her legs, her face. Being slapped, being punched and all the while looking for Kurt. He was stronger than he looked, which was something that surprised their assailants but it only took a few more of them to put him down where they could hurt him and make him watch. Make him listen and they violated her over and over again. The blood running freely from her nose, her mouth, from her head down on to her pretty dress on the ground on her skin._

 _And the words, the voices that had lodged in her heart and in her head. She heard them, really heard them - the names, the ugliness that only hate can engender. That **one** word - what they say she is, what she knows she is not even as they say it to her over and over. Holding on to that little bit of herself that is still intact and tucking it away so they can’t take it, can’t have it. Hearing one voice, vague but familiar and she knows it, can identify him if it kill s her if she can only see. And that’s only until that one hard hard hand pulls her head up and slams it down into the asphalt. The last thing she hears is Kurt screaming her name._

This time, she doesn't wake up screaming but it’s pretty close.


	4. Chapter 4

**VIII.**  
Mercedes swings her legs to the side of her bed and rocks a little, a comforting motion as everything swirls free in her head. Focus, she thinks, focus. Holds out her hands and the bruisers are gone as well as the scrapes. They don’t hurt anymore. She’s still here, less than whole but still here.

Coach Sylvester’s voice comes back to her, hard and strong. **“Don’t let them win.”**

She reaches over to her nightstand and grabs her cell phone. Her text to Kurt says, _“I remember.”_

~*~

Kurt picks her up the next morning and they drive to school in silence, her hand resting on his thigh, one of his covering hers. “How much?” he asks when she gets in the car.

  
“Not all of it but most of it.” Mercedes takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Enough maybe to help the police get started.” She looks over at him but she can't read his expression which he hids behind a pair of wide lensed sunglasses.

“They called you that,” Kurt says, his voice low and deadly. He smacks his steering wheel with one hand. “No one calls you that. No. One.”

Mercedes squeezes his hand. “It’s not me, boo.”

“I know.” He glances over at her. “Everyone thought it was about me.”

She turns away, her eyes trained on the scenes outside. “I know they did. They were wrong.”

~*~

By the time Mercedes and Kurt make it to glee club, they pieced together as much as they could, writing down what came back to them.

“I hope it’s enough,” Kurt says, flipping the pages over with one hand as they stand outside the choir room. “It’s so thin.”

Mercedes shrugs. “It’s what we’ve got. Maybe there will be more but we’ve got to start somewhere.”

They were about to walk into the room when Mercedes heard a voice. Except this time, it wasn’t in her head. She whipped around, alert. Kurt looked at her worriedly. “’Cedes? What is it?”

Mercedes’ head turns from one way to another,. “I heard someone.”

A group of jocks walk down an adjoining hallway and she follows, Kurt in her wake. The boys joke and laugh, the same voices she’s always heard. But there's  one that stands out for her, pulling her along.

  
They walk into the locker room and the door barely closes before Mercedes barrels through it, Kurt hot on her heels. “Yo, glee kid,” Korofsky shouts. “Get the hell out.”

Mercedes waved an impatient hand at him and began to walk down the main part of the locker room, looking down each row. At one point, she saw Finn and Puck, towels around their waists. Both boys looked up startled. “Mercedes!” Finn shouted, getting to his feet. “What are you doing in here?”

“I heard him, “ Mercedes muttered. “I know I did.” She ducked down one last row and stopped.

“Hey, Mortens, pass me another towel.”

Her body stiffens as the memories came pouring in. She knows him. She knows that voice. “”Cedes,” Kurt grabs her arm, Puck and Finn beside him but Mercedes shakes him off . “It was him,” she says, her voice hard and precise.

“Him who? What is going on with you?”

“I’d like to know that as well, Miss Jones,” Coach Beiste pushes her way through the growing crowd of jocks to stand beside Mercedes. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave my locker room.”

Mercedes turns to Coach Beiste. “No, I’m not leaving . He was part of it.”

Coach Beiste says, “What are you talking about?”

This time she surges forward before anyone can stop her and pushes David Fletcher against his locker, catching him by surprise. “Fuck!” Fletcher says as his head slams back against the cold metal. Mercedes pushes him again, her face a rictus of pain.

“It was you! You were part of the group that attacked me and Kurt!”

The room grows quiet in the wake of Mercedes’ accusation. Fletcher shakes his head and makes a shooing motion with his hand. “I have no idea of what you’re talking about, That little knock on your head must have shook something loose.” He looks around at his team mates and his coach and laughs. “Hey guys, she’s just being crazy.”

No one says anything. Kurt slips up beside Mercedes. “Are you sure?”

“He knew us. He knew who we were,” Mercedes spits. “You said, Jesse show her what’s what.” Shaking her head, she continues, “You were there, Jesse called me a nigger bitch, said that I had turned Kurt into a fag, that I shouldn’t be allowed to turn another white man weak.”

The ugly boils up and over as the memories swim through her head. “They held Kurt down, made him watch me get beaten up. They hurt us and you did nothing. **You. Were. There!** ”

By the time Fletcher’s fist comes up to hit Mercedes, Puck, Finn and Azimio have pushed Mercedes out of the way and pinned the other boy against his locker. “If you even think you’re going to hit her, you’ve got another thing coming,” Puck says. Mercedes’ shoulders shake as she struggles to take in a breath, her arms wrapped around herself.

“Oh god, oh god,” she whispers as her back hit the lockers across from Fletcher and she slids down to the floor. She can't look away from him.

Kurt's there, pulling her into him, his arms around her shoulders. “Shh, shhh, I’ve got you.”

“Yeah, that’s right, faggot, go sit with your little Black girl friend.” Fletcher’s voice drips with hate. He's slammed back against his lockers by Puck and Finn.

“Someone go get Principal Figgins,” Coach Beiste says. She nods at Finn and Puck to let Fletcher go.

“You sure, Coach?” Finn asks, his eyes never leaving his teammate.

“Oh, I am very sure. You’re not going anywhere, are you Fletcher?”

The other boy snorts derisively. “Like you can do anything about it, dyke.” He looks to where Mercedes sits cradled by Kurt. “Doesn’t matter, she always needed to be taken down a peg. It was just opportunity. Right time, right place.”

Fletcher turns his gaze back to Coach Beiste and sneers “You should be okay with this.”

“Why? Because I’m white like you? Or because I’m from the South?” Coach Beiste leans in until they are nose to nose. “My grandfather was an old Kluxer. He brought us enough pain for a lifetime. When he died, no one in my family came to his funeral. Don’t ever think that everyone is like you.”

When Principal Figgins finally bustles in with several security officers in tow, Coach Beiste turns her attention back to Mercedes. She gets down on one knee. “I’ll have someone call your parents to take you home," she says gently.

Mercedes looked at Kurt and she nods, wiping her face. “Thanks, Coach.”

 **Epilogue**   
_“David Fletcher, and his brother Jesse Fletcher and seven other known associates were in court today to be arraigned on charges of assault against Mercedes Jones and Kurt Hummel of Lima. Fletcher, a student at McKinley High School, was part of a group of youths who beat and severely injured Ms. Jones and Mr. Hummel on the night of August 16th. There is an added federal hate crimes enhancement as Ms. Jones was able to to confirm that the assailants used racial and sexual epithets towards both herself and Mr. Hummel._

 _  
Paul Starrett-Berry and Sheldon Berry, attorneys for the plaintiffs sought the hate crimes enhancement which, if enacted, carries an additional five years on top of the assault charges._

 _“Anyone who conceives of and decides to carry out this type of activity should understand that there are heavy consequences for their actions,” Mr. Starrett-Berry said. “Everyone has the right to live their lives as they see fit. The men involved in this heinous crime depended on no one remembering what they had done. We are fortunate that this time, they did not get their wish.” -The Lima Herald, 10/20/10_


End file.
